


We're at War, Soldier

by HolyWater



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, Barebacking, Cuddling, First Kiss, First Time, Grocery Shopping, Hugging, Hurt Derek, Ice Skating, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Minor Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Pack Feels, Protective Derek, Protective Stiles, Riding, Scenting, Sharing a Bed, Stiles Gets Captured, Swimming, Werewolf Hunters, Witches, nerf war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1764916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyWater/pseuds/HolyWater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re at war, soldier.” Stiles says, gripping his shoulders. “You’re lucky I saved you with my quick and awesome reflexes.”</p><p>Derek sighs. “What happened to real, actual pack meetings?”</p><p>“Those pack meetings are boring.” Stiles scoffs. “This is like boot camp. You always have to be ready. Be prepared!” </p><p>Derek opens his mouth to say that this would never happen in real life, and that hunters would never use nerf darts for god’s sake, when suddenly there’s a shout.</p><p>“Are you two done making out down there so that we can get on with the war?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're at War, Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone lives and is happy! This is slight post-3b, but nothing bad happened to anyone during 3b. No spoilers! Universe Alterations! 
> 
> Enjoy!

It happens after what he assumes is the two of them gaining complete, mutual trust for one another—also, hunters. Stiles hasn’t always been one for douche-y werewolves (name, Jackson or Peter) but Derek wasn’t really a douche, was he? No, he was just grumpy and angry. Right there were just two completely different things.

“Stiles,” Derek growls between his teeth, jaw clenched in annoyance.

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Yes, grumpy cat?”

Derek huffs.

Stiles laughs.

Derek was angry, but Stiles knew deep, deep down, Derek had a heart of gold. Or, maybe just moderate silver. It was hard to tell so soon.

~~

“I realized,” Stiles starts, bursting into Derek’s new apartment. He is reading (of course he is) and rolls his eyes before ignoring Stiles completely. Fine. That doesn’t mean he has to stop talking.

“You need to start considering other options.” He continues, shutting the front door and striding into the kitchen. He opens the fridge, finds a dozen eggs, a gallon of milk, and a few apples.

He closes the fridge. “Next time you run out of eggs, we’re going grocery shopping, together.”

He opens the cupboard, finds a box of multi-grain cheerios.

He closes the cupboard and shudders. “You and me, green-eyes.”

He sits close next to Derek on the couch, just to annoy him, and pokes him in the side until he looks up from the book. Stiles takes it from his hands and tosses it on the coffee table. “You need to _do_ something.” Stiles emphasizes, stretching along the whole coach.

“Just to please you?”

Stiles smirks. “Finally, the mute speaks. And yes, I have a low attention span.”

“Probably because you’re an only child.” Derek says, looking down at him.

Stiles hits him with a pillow. Derek shoves him on the floor.

He has bruises for weeks.

~~

Derek is greeted at the front door by Sheriff Stilinski, who winces when there is a loud _thump_ from behind him.

“Pack meeting?” Sheriff asks.

Derek nods. “I assume the others are already here?”

There’s a squeal, a shout, and pounding footsteps. The Sheriff walks past Derek, patting his arm affectionately. “Don’t let them kill each other, son.”

The Sheriff walks to his squad car, and gets in, backing out of the driveway, leaving Derek alone to the horrors of what could be inside of the Stilinski household at this moment with two werewolves, a banshee, a fox, a hunter, and Stiles.

“DEREK’S HERE!” Scott’s voice yells, echoing throughout the house.

Derek cautiously walks through the doorway, closing the door behind him, when Stiles is suddenly in front of him, flushed from running, cheeks red, breathing hard, and a smile on his face.

“Dude, you have to be on my team, promise me. We’re up against Scott, Kira, and Allison. Isaac and Lydia are on our team! Come on, we’re at war!”

Stiles grabs the sleeve of his jacket, drags him through the hallway, and into the living room, which is currently being played as a legitimate warzone, arrows flying and everything. One second he’s standing, watching Kira spot him as a new, potential target (Is that a nerf gun?), the next he’s on the floor, Stiles’ whole body pressing against his.

He has a sudden déjà vu of him and Stiles in the exact same position almost two years ago, but his mind clears when Stiles smiles down at him, arrows and darts passing swiftly through the air above them.

“We’re at war, soldier.” Stiles says, gripping his shoulders. “You’re lucky I saved you with my quick and awesome reflexes.”

Derek sighs. “What happened to real, actual pack meetings?”

“Those pack meetings are boring.” Stiles scoffs. “This is like boot camp. You always have to be ready. Be prepared!”

Derek opens his mouth to say that this would never happen in real life, and that hunters would never use _nerf darts_ for god’s sake, when suddenly there’s a shout.

“Are you two done making out down there so that we can get on with the war?”

Stiles’ cheeks turn bright red and Derek avoids his gaze when he says, “Come one, soldier, we’re at war.”

Stiles gets off of him, and Derek doesn’t admit to himself how good it felt to be so close to Stiles, and instead, runs into what is, apparently, no-man’s land with him.

They get killed about two seconds in.

Stiles likes to think, well, at least they died together.

~~

“Do you eat meat, or is that like, cannibalism to you?”

Derek squints at Stiles. “Why would that be cannibalism?”

Stiles looks around them before saying, quietly, “Because, you know…” He puts his hands up as claws and bares his teeth at Derek.

Derek rolls his eyes and continues to push the cart. “Wolves eat meat too, Stiles.”

Stiles trips after him, almost falling face-first onto the floor. “Yeah, I know, I just thought…”

“You have literally seen me eat meat before.” Derek deadpans. “We shared a steak.”

Stiles tisks at him. “You know what, never mind. Clearly, I’ve pushed a few boundaries.”

“Yeah, put it that way.” Derek says, rolling his eyes in amusment.

Stiles puts chicken, steak, and, snickering while he does it, hands some lamb to Derek. “For your late night, full moon, cravings, sir.”

Derek adds it to the cart. “Thank you,”

Stiles mouth hangs open. “Seriously? How stereotypical of you. Do you all eat lamb? Is it your favorite? Does it taste better raw or cooked? Has Scott or Isaac ever eaten it with you? Do you guys have satanic rituals every Friday night? Should I be jealous?”

Derek ignores him, pushing on. “I like yogurt. Peach my favorite.”

Stiles rambles on and Derek is sure he didn’t hear him.

His fridge, though, continues to stay stocked with peach yogurt to that day.

~~

Witches come, and of course, of fucking course, they _have_ to kidnap Stiles. They always have to go for the humans first. Weakest link of the pack, right?

Stiles isn’t sure how long he’s stuck with them, tied to a chair, stalling them all with snide comments and remarks, before Derek comes barreling in, fangs out, eyes a bright blue, roaring furiously. He kills all of them within minutes, tearing open their stomachs and throats with his claws. Stiles closes his eyes the whole time, not even realizing how scared he was until that moment. Blood splatters against his skin and face. There’s growling and snarling and yelling and Stiles’ loses his breath.

Then his ropes fall way and there are warm hands on him, cupping his face. “Stiles?”

Stiles looks up and attempts a crooked smile. “You found me,”

“Breathe,”

Stiles sucks in a breath and releases it, his chest uncurling slightly. “Thank you,”

Derek’s thumbs move slightly over his skin and he tries relaxing in the warmth of it. “Looks like the human got into trouble again, huh?”

Derek’s jaw clenches. “You are the most important part of the pack.”

Stiles huffs in disbelief. “I can’t even take care of myself…”

“You keep everyone together.”

~~

He’s notices that he’s been hanging out with Derek more and more. Scott has Kira, and Allison has Isaac, and, somehow, it always ends up being them.

“We’re friends.” Stiles says, suddenly.

He’s sitting with Derek on his couch, watching TV, leaning heavily against his side.

Derek shifts against him. “Yes,”

Stiles smiles and leans in closer to the werewolf. “Yeah,”

He finds that Derek smells like fresh soap and peaches. His stubble tickles his forehead.

~~

“Fire in the hole!”

Scott jumps off of the cliff, yelling, and lands in the clear, crystal, water of the river, creating a gigantic splash of waves. Stiles is lying in the sun a little ways away from everyone else, and Derek finds he can’t stop looking at him.

Stiles isn’t exactly small and dangly anymore. He’s not buff, but he’s lean, and Derek can see every muscle in his stomach and legs, and god, those arms. He looks away before Stiles catches him, eyes on Scott dunking Isaac and Allison. Lydia is also away from all of the water, in the shade of a tree, painting her nails, her phone on her lap.

“Derek!”

He looks up and sees Stiles waving him toward him, his other hand shading his eyes from the sunlight.

Derek breathes out deeply, before getting up and walking toward Stiles, making sure his eyes stay tracked to his face and not his body. Stiles smiles at him when he finally makes his way over, and pats the remaining part of the towel on his left, inviting Derek to lie down next to him.

“Don’t worry, sour patch, I’m not gonna bite. That’s your job.” Stiles jokes, snickering to himself.

Derek rolls his eyes, but bites back a smile, lying down next to Stiles in the bright sun, their arms brushing one another.

“Why aren’t you in the water with Scott?” Derek asks, curiosity curling under his tongue.

Stiles frowns. “Swimming isn’t really my forte anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I will get in when it gets really hot in July and August, but I try to avoid it as much as possible.”

He understands. Stiles looks into his eyes and he knows he knows.

“I like ice-skating.” Derek supplies.

Stiles mouth takes a perfect o shape. “Seriously? You’re _now_ just telling me this?”

Derek  smirks. “There are a lot of skating rinks in New York.”

Stiles punches him lightly in the arm. “You now officially have a date with me the next time there aren’t any supernatural creatures hunting us down.”

“That would be now.” Derek considers.

“I’m too tired now…” Stiles wines, twisting around so he can smush his face on the blanket.

Derek has not had a date since he was fifteen.

~~

Stiles hugs him the moment he opens his front door, a crushing weight suddenly encircling him, causing him to be short of breath for a moment.

“Stiles, wh—”

“Everyone deserves hugs.” Stiles interrupts, tucking his head in the crook of Derek’s neck and shoulder. “I was just thinking and…” He falters, pulling back slightly. “Sorry, it’s stupid…”

Derek’s arms come up around Stiles waist and he hears him suck in a breath. “No, it’s not.”

He pulls Stiles close to him again, and breathes him in, smelling vanilla and cinnamon and brown sugar. “It’s not.”

Stiles falls asleep on the couch that evening, arm tucked around Derek’s waist, head resting against his chest, and a sweet smile on his mouth.

Derek wonders when he started to mean so much to him.

~~

“I don’t think I’m fully equipped to handling this.” Stiles states, panic pulling at his chest as he looks down at the ice rink. “I mean, it’s practically a death trap.”

Derek raises his eyebrow. “It’s fun.”

Stiles side glances him. “Maybe for you, oh graceful one, but have you seen my limbs? I have trouble walking on flat ground, much less freakin’ ice!”

“You’ll be fine.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.”

Derek drags him over to the edge, Stiles clutching onto him like a lifeline. “I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not gonna die.” Derek says, going out onto the ice.

There are only two other people there, considering it’s July, so Stiles is very, very grateful for that when he does make a foul out of himself, and he will, there won’t be that many people to see firsthand.

Derek starts slowly, letting Stiles hold onto his arm and the side of the edges. Stiles was right, he’s not very good at it, but he’s not terrible.

“This is so bad,” Stiles says, creeping his way across the rink.

“Everyone has trouble skating the first couple of times.” Derek says.

Stiles looks at him incredulously.

“I won’t let you fall.”

Stiles does end up falling. Several times. But, he takes Derek down with him every time, and ends up laughing on the cold ice until his ass is wet and about to freeze off.

~~

Derek almost dies, again, at the hands of a few hunters, again, with four arrows in his chest.

Stiles cradles his head in his hands, tears running down his cheeks and dripping onto the skin of Derek’s neck. His face keeps going in and out of focus.

“Come on, damnit, stay with  me.” Stiles demands, one hand reaching down to clutch at his hand. “Deaton’s on his way, you’ll be fine, you hear me?”

Derek nods, breathing getting more labored and his eyelids getting heavier and heavier.

There is suddenly a sharp pain across his face and Stiles comes back into focus. “Fucking stay awake, Derek! Come on!”

The noises around them in the woods are muffled, but Stiles’ gaze stays intense. He figures if he does die, at least Stiles will be the last person he sees.

“We’re at war, soldier.” He ends up mumbling.

Stiles snorts, and Derek brings his hand up, attempting to wipe his tears away.

Stiles says, “I’ll save you,”

Derek says, “You already did,”

Later, Derek opens his eyes to find himself all bandaged up and lying in his bed, the glow of the moon peaking through the curtains of his window. There is rustling, and Derek turns his head to see Stiles sitting next to him in a pulled up chair from the corner of his room, hair ruffled from sleep, eyes a bit hazy.

“You’re awake,” Stiles smiles and reaches over, brushing his fingers over Derek’s hair, fingertips grazing his forehead.

“Come here,” Derek says.

Stiles does, slipping off his jeans before climbing into the covers besides Derek, minding the bandages across his stomach. A tiny sigh escapes Stiles lips when he rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, arm around his chest.

“You’re okay.”

Derek reaches up and grabs his hand in his own, running his nose across Stiles forehead. Stiles falls back asleep beside Derek in seconds. Derek falls back asleep listening to the, now, steady heartbeat in Stiles’ chest.

~~

That’s when it happens. Remember, in the beginning?

Stiles wakes up to an empty bed, walks down the hall and to the kitchen to find Derek making coffee. He jumps up on the counter. “No pre-morning ritual lamb chops for you, Mr. Wolf?”

Derek turns on the coffee maker before looking back at Stiles, a knowing look in his eyes. Stiles is relieved to see that the bandages are gone and his skin is completely healed.

Stiles smirks and takes a big bite out a buttered roll already on the countertop. Derek walks up to him and snatches it out of his hands and taking a bite out himself.

“That was mine.” Stiles wines.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “I put it on the counter.”

“Which I assumed was for me.”

Derek shoves the roll in Stiles mouth and Stiles laughs, eating the rest of it.

They drink their coffee and Derek kisses him when they are finished, pulling his body to the edge of the counter and wrapping his arms around his waist. Stiles smiles against his lips, and, for once, isn’t surprised.

“You should have told me you liked me sooner.” Stiles murmurs against Derek’s lips.

Derek kisses him again, sweeter, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t like you. I love you.”

Stiles wraps his arms around his shoulders and his legs tighten around his hips. “I love you.”

Derek kisses him like he is desperate, and Stiles supposes that he is, because he knows that _he_ definitely is. Stiles also supposes that their mouths were made for each other, the way they move and feel and taste. Their sighs wrap around each other’s tongues, caught between one breath and the next. Derek kisses him with emotion like no one else has and Stiles gives back, warmth wrapped around his chest, squeezing and pulling.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

~~

Stiles rides him, breath short and tight as he moves down on Derek’s cock. Derek feels huge inside of him and Stiles can’t get enough of it, hands pressed down against his stomach.

Derek’s fingers are sure to leave bruises against Stiles hips, clutching at his skin as he moves his hips up and down with Stiles’ own thrusts against his body. Stiles’ cock is heavy and dark red in front of him, bobbing every now and then against his stomach.

Derek looks at him like he is the moon because he is. He is. “You’re everything to me.”

Stiles comes between them, come spurting onto both of their skin, hips stuttering their constant movement. Derek comes after Stiles opens his eyes and looks at him with a dark, heavy lust. He shoots inside of Stiles, moaning, feeling his warm come filling up the inside of him and he leans up, pressing their bodies fully together, staying inside of him.

Stiles kisses his shoulder and his neck and his jaw, leading to his mouth, searching deeply for more warmth, tongue tangling with Derek’s own.

Derek finally slips out of him and Stiles whimpers at the lost of contact, already feeling come sliding out of his ass.

“I love you.” Stiles says, lips warm against his. “God, I love you.”

Derek tugs him even closer.

 

 

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